Reminisce Of A Blank Past
by Andra Black
Summary: Samaru Demange, a skilled military combatant in a hopeless romance for the elderly woman who had cared for him since childhood, is transported to another realm upon death in the confusion caused by Sarianah taking her own life. Danzo has plans for the young soldier, but will his deceased love's voice guide him away from danger? Perhaps he will find a new love, as well. Rated MA.


"Samaru." Her voice was soft, caring and tender, but hesitant. He did not answer, his lost gaze focused on nothing, casting over the sun setting horizon outside the window. The city was alive, lit like Christmas decorations, hiding what evil went on down in the streets. It was a blissfully painful illusion.

"The Counsel wish to see you. It's time."

He finally looked up to the pale skinned woman, her chocolate eyes withered and dull, but still showing that wisdom and kindness that was unheard of. But it was dying, she was dying, from sacrificing so much. So much for him, who had done little in return but accept her good will with a silent thank you. For nearly fifteen years. For nothing in return. All she cared about was for him to be happy, but all he felt was bitter regret for being so selfish, unable to give an eye for an eye.

The coffee brown scarf shines like velvet across her slender shoulders, complimenting the soft grey waves that fell past her waist. She is not wearing her usual garb. She has retired from her duties as a protector of her country. Yet look at him, still young and in his prime, barely twenty. Past her sixties, she still stood stronger than anyone he knew.

"Will you be alright without me, Sarianah?" the young man spoke, worry in his maple brown eyes. She did not reply, instead gazing sadly out the wide expanse of clear glass that looked over the city. Her eyes grow stern, shining with something he rarely saw.

"What about you?" she inquired in return. He has no way of responding, and looks down to the floor in guilt, a deep frown marring his handsome visage before lifting again as he walked through the few feet between them, and tenderly nudged her face to his with a brush of his knuckles, then slowly lifted her chin up, as she is so much shorter than him. The kiss lasts for long enough, enough for him to feel how cold her lips are, how much her skin had withered, and how weak her breath was.

"If I had my way, we'd be married, young, have our own family and live in a small baby blue house surrounded by a white picket fence." he murmured, and he could not help the barest smile when her face lit up with a teary grin. He loved her, there was no doubt. The age did not matter. Had the situation been better, he would have happily asked for her hand the first chance he got.

He sighed and closed his eyes, kissing her again and leaning his forehead against hers, running his fingers gingerly through her silken hair that was once such a rich chestnut. He remembered braiding it when he was just a tyke, and it was so funny how he had such a feminine hobby lasting through his late teens. All those happy memories ended a few years ago, when corruption struck the neighborhood. Everyone but themselves completely wiped off the face of the earth. He doubted that she had any clue how happy he was that she was at least alive, how much his heart ached knowing she was going to die before he did. So, right here, embracing in the warm rays of the lowering autumn sun, was as perfect as anything could get for him. He'd give up everything just to stay like this forever.

"Goodbye, Samaru." was all he heard, the only warning he got before he heard the distinct click that made his trembling heart stop. It took him too long to recognize the deafening clap of gunpowder, to name the wet and warm crimson that stained the cotton of his white shirt. He was too late to react as her body became a lifeless weight in his frozen arms. There was an uproar of confusion as heavy boots rumbled from across the wide, curved corridor.

Shouts of warning went completely ignored as Samaru stared in blank shock at the half lidded visage craddled in his lap, the crimson dripping down the dead woman's chin, and the ghost of a smile that seemed to be stuck on her soft lips. "Why?" he calmly breathed out in question, before hearing another bang of a bullet, the very last he could remember before his eyes were forced closed. His body jerked back, a penny sized hole in his forehead, a clean death. At least he could die with her.

Right?

* * *

><p>A pierce of charcoal briefly observed the fresh corpse sprawled on the stone cold floor. There were no wounds marking its unblemished tanned ivory skin, other than the fatal hole in the centre of its skull. The overall physique of the specimen was near flawless, perfectly toned masculinity. Healthy height of possibly six feet, large hands, long toned legs, and a rather handsome visage with a mane of cocao colored hair. Danzo crouched and lifted a limp arm, not caring if the questionable ooze layering the dead body got on his wrinkled skin. It was still warm, as if it had died seconds ago. The best part was, he could sense the spirit that had yet to leave just quite yet. There was still a scarce chance.<p>

What use did the elder have for a newly deceased military combatant of another time? Absolutely nothing, for now, until the man woke up once more. He held a hand up in a silent command to one of the many masked figures that approached from the shadows. The nameless ROOT ANBU paused and stood still, waiting for a command.

"Give him to Orochimaru. I want him awake effective immediately." the old man spoke.

* * *

><p>There was nothing. Just the pure absence of tranquil existence. No sounds, no feeling, no taste. Just a bliss of emptiness. The faceless spirit had been stuck in this pristine canvas since it could remember. Where was it? Did it have a name? Did it have a past?<p>

"You must awaken." a voiceless whisper had said. "You must be reborn." it said. "You must..."

It must what? What was this endless purgatory? Why wait? Why remember? What was wrong with being born with a clean slate, choosing your own life?

"My name is Samaru..." it suddenly said one day, opening it's eyes to a silver valley. It reached its hand out, feeling the snow fall on its small, warm hand. It was cold, it sent a numbing shock through its finger tips. Then it was standing in the middle of a lush meadow, verdant waves of a glazed sea of grass tickling its bare thighs. It was still reaching its hand out to catch a drifting dandelion seed, which vanished, replaced with a violet winged butterfly perching on its finger, and it flew off, turning into an Ivory Woodpecker, then a proud golden falcon.

"Wake up..." a snake like hiss disturbed the carefree spirit. It was licentious and gave off an oily feeling. Corrupt.

It, Samaru, did not want to wake up. This was a heaven. Why leave? It felt like a serene peace it had never experienced before. Weightless and free. "Samaru, please don't wake up." There was a woman's voice, this time. A voice 'Samaru' knew so well. A voice that made its heart throb with an alien happiness. "Please stay here, with me, Samaru."

"Who are you?" Samaru had a voice this time. Deep and gentle, but with a worn edge, the voice of a man who had suffered enough.

"Wake up!" the oil coated voice ordered again, shattering the haven that existed around it, and a bubble of air was forced from his lungs. Samaru opened his eyes with a weak glare that penetrated through the fragile cilinder prison around him, vision blurred by the suspicious green liquid filling the container. The amnesiac opened his eyes further, clearing his sight just enough to make out the evil golend serpentine stare on the other side.

"Don't leave me, Samaru. I love you..." the woman's voice faded to nothing before he could respond. Why did he have such a strong urge to return those words? Why did his chest hurt so much? His thoughts were interrupted as the same serpentine eyes demanded his attention, along with that sly, awful grin. What a hideous face. Sure, it was good looking in an odd aspect, but the pure dark intent that was spilling from it was gut wrenching. There was a sudden bone rattling jolt, making the brunet let out a bubbled roar of blood searing pain, eyes open in wide agony. As soon as his body was no longer strung back like a bow, there was another, sending his limbs in another twitching frenzy. Again and again, until he was numb once more, and his conciousness faded, the last thing being seen was the slick, scaled tongue licking across the snake's stark white lips.

Who... what the fuck was he?


End file.
